Faded Twist of Reality
by stretch the faunlet
Summary: Paul has a nightmare of his possible re-capture. One-shot. Takes place during the film. Hints of Paul/Tara.


_Faded Twist of Reality_

He awoke to a blinding light.

Groaning slightly, feeling his head pound painfully, Paul went to sit up, to reach his hand to his throbbing head in instinct.

He found himself unable to do either.

Sense began to pulse through his veins as he tried again to sit up. He leaned up slightly, only a couple of inches upward, before feeling something pull him back down to the cold metal surface on which he was laying upon.

His throat tightened, his breaths were uneven. Four leather straps had him restrained to a cold metal table. An operation table, Paul realized, dread filling through him entirely at the thought. Had he been captured? Had he fallen asleep in a forest with the three humans he trusted, and yet Zoil and The Big Guy managed to capture him? Without him knowing?

He felt guilt creeping up his spine. He knew Graeme and Clive (mainly Graeme, remembering how Clive didn't trust him completely yet) were telling the truth when they said they would help him get home. Ruth had been going along with the plan, but never really promised, but Paul knew she was trying to help him as well. But the guilt Paul felt, he had realized was the thought that, if Graeme, Clive and Ruth weren't there that must have meant that they were dead, probably killed trying to protect him, an alien, someone they had just met.

And he couldn't protect them.

They were his friends, even if for only a couple of days. They didn't turn him over back to the base to be cut open like some animal. They had actually tried to hide him from other humans, trying to help him get back home.

And now they were probably dead.

Because of him.

If he could lie there and let the guilt eat him alive rather than what the humans had in mind, he would have. He jumped slightly, hearing the sound of a heavy door open and then slam shut. He held his breath and didn't dare move his eyes away from the blinding ceiling lights, hoping to imagine himself anywhere but where he was.

As multiple footsteps approached him, Paul was trying to let his mind wander before the humans cut his brain out and watched him die slowly. He pictured himself back on his home planet... But then his mind took back control and Paul was sent reliving the memories of his crash landing on Earth, his rescue from the crash, and of the girl who had rescued him, Tara.

The thought of Tara comforted him slightly, his tense muscles relaxed considerably. The memory of that strange little Earth child with the bright smile had a way to stop his heart from pounding so fast because the fear that had been creeping up his spine. He let out a calm breath.

But the thought of Tara made his guilt stronger. His wishes of seeing her again, to tell her a proper 'thank you', to give her the Teddy bear she had given him back to her, was gone. The unanswered questions of how old Tara was now, what did she look like now, if she was married or had children, would forever be unsolved, now that he couldn't see her like he had wanted to for sixty years.

The guilt of not being able to save his friends or of visiting Tara one last time sent his mind whirling. This was not about him dying anymore; this was about the fact he was letting the people he cared about down if he willing let himself die.

He began to struggle against the straps, fighting for freedom, fighting for the person who had saved him sixty years before, and fighting for the people who had tried to save him recently.

As he pulled against the straps, two human doctors appeared in front of him, now blocking the ceiling lights that Paul had awoken to. They wore the blue scrubs that he knew human doctors, mainly the surgeons, wore, and a mask that only covered their mouths. The fear inside rose again, this time it forced his body to stop struggling, and his movement ceased except for his chest that rose up quickly as he heaved for breaths, and his eyes which darted from doctor to doctor. He could hear mumbling around him, but it was hushed and muffled, and could not make out what they were exactly saying, but Paul knew it was about him by the way they were staring at him as they spoke.

One of the doctors leaned in towards Paul and worded out something. It was muffled and faint and Paul couldn't tell what he was saying. The pounding of his head came to a slow halt, and Paul could now hear the doctor, loud and clear. "Are you ready?" the doctor asked, glancing over to the other doctor briefly, whom nodded.

"No," Paul answered weakly, shaking his head. His voice was hoarse and weak, as though fear itself was strangling him with cold, dead hands.

"Don't worry," a female voice added. A familiar female voice. The doctor who was still leaning over Paul, glanced over at the woman who had spoken. "He's ready. He knows he can't get away this time."

He recognized the voice. Shaking slightly, Paul turned his head, and his eyes widened and his throat tightened again. "You..." the words came out in instinct as he stared at the woman he called 'The Big Guy'. The one behind it all; the one who plotted his demise when she learned about the alien powers he possessed since birth.

She smirked at his shocked yet terrified response, but did not answer him. Instead, she turned towards the doctors. "Let the operation begin," she ordered them coldly, before turning one last time towards Paul, and he gasped, seeing that her eyes had turned a blood red color and her teeth turned into fangs as she hissed at him.

This had to be a nightmare, but it felt to real to be a nightmare. He felt the leather straps tighten against him when he tried to break free. He felt the coldness of the metal table against his back. He still felt the numb pain in his head. This was real. This had to be real.

Suddenly, he heard the sharp, loud sound of what appeared to be a chainsaw, turn on. He glanced up and saw the doctor who had first spoken to him holding up a small surgical saw. That was the weapon they would be using to cut out his brain.

As the saw neared him, Paul began hyperventilating, his heart pounding so quick that it was almost blocking out the sound of he saw itself. He knew this was the end. He held his breath, closed his eyes and braced himself.

"Paul..."

A new voice appeared, this time it was quieter, softer, more innocent. Childlike. And he knew the voice was that of the girl he hadn't seen in sixty years. The voice he longed to hear for so long; of the girl he realized he had missed.

Paul turned his head to the source of the voice and his heart slowed slightly. "T-Tara...?"

Indeed, it was Tara Walton, the girl who had rescued him from the crash. Paul was relieved the see her, but something was different about her. She appeared the same since he last saw her, but she was glowing. Her eyes were dead and hollow, her skin slightly paler. She seemed like a ghost. "Why didn't you come and visit me, Paul?" her voice wasn't accusing, but instead hurt. "Didn't you care about me?"

"I did come try to see you," Paul explained, the guilt heavily noticeable in his voice. "I tried so hard... You saved me all those years ago; I had to come and see you... I do care about you, Tara, you have to believe me!"

Tara opened her mouth to speak, and Paul watched her with patient eyes. But instead of words or even a breath, blood began to trickle down the corners of her mouth. Paul watched in horror as Tara promptly collapsed.

"Tara!" Paul found himself screaming her name over and over. The pain he felt was unbearable, so was the guilt. He struggled again, desperate to run over and help the girl who had helped him.

"Awwww," The Big Guy mocked, her eyes still blood red, teeth still sharp as an animal's. "What a shame. Boys, finish the little prick off."

Paul turned his head away from the body of his friend and stared up at the saw, which was now inches from his face, about to cut him open. Whirling away, it made a loud screeching sound.

Paul started screaming, trying to move his head back as the saw came closer.

Closer.

_Closer..._

He could almost taste the metal of the blade as it was literally an inch from his face, ready to penetrate his skull at any moment; His screaming blocked out the sound of the saw to the point where he could hear the screeching and yelling that escaped from his lungs, nearly running out of breath, his chest tightened, fighting for air as it escaped him in fearful howls of torment.

The light from the ceiling got brighter; blinding him completely. Time slowed, his screaming echoed and his heartbeat was the only thing he could hear as the light completely engulfed him; the taste of metal still lingered...

* * *

><p>The brightness disappeared.<p>

All the air in his lungs escaped from his throat in a loud gasp as his body jolted up into the darkness of the night that was reality. His eyes searched around wildly in the darkness, his breathing quick and uneven.

Shortly, after a moment of realization swept through him, his body relaxed, his breathing and his heart slowed to a normal pace, and his eyes softened. He hadn't felt this relieved since after he survived his crash on Earth. The relief of being alive after the crash; the relief of awaking from an all-to-real nightmare.

His eyes searched around the forest where he had been spending the night with he humans who were trying to save him. He let out another breath of relief when he noticed Graeme and Clive passed out on the ground a few feet away from him. He heard Clive snoring loudly, and the sound of the dying campfire sizzle and crack the remaining burned out firewood. He noticed that Ruth was no longer there, but realized that she had gone back to the RV most likely.

He remained sitting up for a couple of minuets, trying to let reality sink back into his body to drown out the terrible nightmare he had just awoken from. The vivid details were so clear it had been like looking through a fine crystal that had been buried in his mind. He realized that if he didn't get his act together, he wouldn't be able to protect his friends, or himself. All of them would die if they got caught.

He laid back down again, watching the stars in the night sky above him. He would get through this crisis. He would not let his friends be killed. In retrospect, he no longer cared what would happen to him anymore. He only cared about the friends he had made, the friends he would look back on when he, if finally, was able to make it back home.

And maybe, hopefully, he could see Tara again.

As he watched the dark, star-filled sky, he closed his eyes and let the faint thought of Tara relax his mind and body completely, into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I wrote this ALL on my new iTouch. :D Because my brother broke my 's' button on my keyboard, which has been making it a living hell to fucking write on my laptop anymore. But luckily, writing on my iTouch (which I got for my 16th**** birthday) is just easy, if not easier. :')**

**By the way, I am officially obsessed with this movie. I have been for a long while, after seeing the movie when it came out. It made me become even a bigger fan of Seth Rogan (the voice of Paul). :D I LOVED him in Knocked Up, The Green Hornet (which I also saw in theaters, right before Paul came out) and of course, my favorite, Paul! :'D Looooove him and looooove Paul. ;P**

**When the hell will Paul come out on DVD already? D:**


End file.
